“Tell me anyway,” I say, needing her to say it.
She holds my gaze, and I see such hurt there, such loneliness and resignation. “Because you’re my friend. And I don’t use my friends.”
Yeah. Friends. We’ll fucking see about that.
33
Ryan is quiet in the car the whole ride back to the house. Neither of us were in the mood for ice cream when we left the beach. Then it started to rain the minute we got in the car. Now I’m just sitting in this oppressive silence, the only sound the faint squeak of the windshield wipers and the soft patter of the rain on the roof.
I hate that I ruined this night for him. We were supposed to be celebrating him, not rehashing all my bullshit. But I wanted to kiss him, and I know he wanted to kiss me back, and I just felt like I couldn’t go there with the weight of an elephant sitting on my chest. I hate secrets. I’m no good at them. And I don’t use people. Even just the thought of using Ryan feels like enough of a betrayal—of him as my friend, of myself and my principles.
Admitting the truth out loud, I feel gross, like I need a shower to scrub all the negative energy away. But he deserved to know, and I stand by my decision to tell him, even with my shitty timing. He deserves to make whatever decisions he needs to make now.
I drive us all the way home and practically moan with relief as I jerk the car into park. We open our doors at the same time and climb out. He moves with his stiff gait towards the front door, keys jangling as he pulls them from his pocket.
I follow wordlessly behind him, my discarded heels in my hand. I take in his frame, cast in shadow by the porch light. Are we just never going to speak again? The silent treatment is a fate worse than death for a Gemini.
He opens the door and steps back, wordlessly gesturing to let me in.
Oh, fuck this. I’m going straight to my room and drawing a bath in that big soaking tub. Then I’m going to dunk my head under the water and scream. I step past him, saying nothing. Behind me, the door shuts. The bolt clicks.
“Tess.”
I pause, heart in my throat, as I hear my name spoken from his lips. One word. Slowly, I turn. He’s still facing the door, one hand pressed against it. “What?”
His hand drops to his side as he turns too, his heated gaze setting me on fire with a look. The keys drop from his hand to the floor with a loud clatter. “Use me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
My mouth is suddenly dry. “Ryan—”
“But we’re changing the rules of the game,” he says, taking a step closer. “Old rules said you used me to make your ex jealous. Well, fuck him,” he curses, his eyes flashing with anger. “He doesn’t deserve one more moment of your precious time or consideration. We’re playing this game with new rules. There’s only one, actually: Use me to feel good.”
My heart skips. “Ryan, this is…”
He takes a step closer, both hands going to the bottom of his powder blue sweater. He pulls it off and drops it to the floor, his blond curls mussed. “Do you want to feel good, Tess?”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I admit.
His hands are working the buttons of his shirt from the top down, exposing his tanned chest. “Does your pussy have teeth? I didn’t feel any before…not that I got much time to explore.”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. This is crazy. This is such a huge mistake. “No, it doesn’t have teeth.”
“Good, because I’d like to taste you with my tongue, and I want to survive in one piece,” he says with a smile.
“Ryan—”
He stops, his green eyes locked on me. “All I thought about the whole ride home was how beautiful you are in that dress and how much I want to fuck you in it.”
And now my heart has stopped. I can’t think. Can’t hold thoughts. I can only feel. And what I feel is a sense of deep, aching want.
He jerks his shirt loose from his pants, flashing me his washboard abs. Then he does the sexy man move of working open his wrist buttons. Fuck, I go weak for a man removing his cufflinks. It’s probably the sexiest article in a man’s wardrobe. Ryan’s not wearing cufflinks, but the visual is the same, and the kitty is officially purring.
He drops the crisp, white shirt from his shoulders, and now he’s standing in just his jeans and shoes. Oh, this beach puppy isn’t lost at all. He knows exactly where he’s going tonight.
He stops right in front of me, close enough to reach out and touch. “The rules are simple: We’re friends who fuck to feel good. You can’t offer more. I’m not taking more. I’m asking you, as your friend, if you’d like to orgasm on my face. Say yes, and I’ll even let you pick which episode of SOA we watch after.”
Oh my god, I’m dead. Here lies Tess, passed away from too much sexual tension.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I repeat. “Your knee,” I add, glancing down.
He reaches out a hand, his fingers gentle under my chin as he tips my face up. “I made you an offer. Come on, Lawyer Tess. I thought this was foreplay for you,” he adds with a teasing smile. “The terms are simple enough for you to understand, right? Orgasms, then SOA.”
“This is crazy,” I say out loud. My clutch is still tucked under my arm, my discarded heels in hand.
“Yes or no, Tess.”
Holding his gaze, I lift my free hand, trailing the tips of my fingers over his skin from his wrist to his elbow. I watch his expression heat as he clenches his jaw, holding himself back. He wants me. He’s burning up with the need to touch me, please me. This is all inevitable, right? I blame Mercury. The Virgo and the Gemini, we were always meant to collide.
I drop my heels and clutch to the floor, not caring where they land. “Yes.”
My soft word of assent, spoken into the heated space between us, drops like a lit match onto a haystack. The flames of our passion erupt, and then we’re in each other’s arms. Our bodies press together, and he groans, muttering a curse. The hand at my chin wraps around my nape and tips back my head, his fingers digging into my hair. I feel that delicious sting of his pull, and my lips part for him. He crashes his needy mouth against mine.
We haven’t even made it past the entryway. We stand here, entwined together, our hands working feverishly to touch and caress. I love the feel of him in my arms. He’s strong but gentle, his hands guiding me where he wants me to go. I flow with him, dropping my hands down to his hips so he can cup my face. Then his hands travel lower, fingertips brushing my exposed breasts before he’s cupping them over the tulle.
“I didn’t even want to go out tonight,” he says against my lips. “I wanted to sit on the couch with you in this dress and fuck you ’til your cheeks turned as bright as these cherries.”
“God, do it,” I moan, breaking our kiss and tipping my neck back in invitation.
He takes it, sinking his open mouth onto my fevered skin. He sucks and teases my pulse point, the sensation traveling straight through my body and zapping me in the clit. I suppress a shiver, working my fingertips along the top of his jeans until I’m slipping them inside to cup his firm ass.
He groans, dropping his face lower to kiss the swell of my breasts. “I need to taste you again. Tess, I want a taste—”
“Do it,” I say again.
Not waiting to be told a third time, he grips me by the arms and pushes me up against the wall. I gasp, head bumping, as he presses into me with his hips, claiming all my air in another fierce kiss. My hands go to his hair as I scrape my nails along his scalp, which earns me a groan of approval.
“Spread your legs,” he says against my lips. His right hand drops down, working the tulle at the bottom of my dress.